Malaysian Persuasion

"Why haven't I ever heard of this place?" Wendy asked.

Probably because of the location. Only recently has the Northland become a mecca for interesting ethnic cuisines.

The three midtown friends I brought to lunch had heard of the Malay Café, but only one had been there. Loretta, Justin and Tyrone were amused by the Muzak soundtrack — greatest hits from old movies, including Dr. Zhivago and Top Gun. We agreed that real Malaysian music would underscore Bill Fang's culinary talents more than the melancholy theme from Love Story, which is what was playing when we were served huge bowls of soup, a vegetable broth with bits of tofu, baby corn and cabbage. "It has a kick to it," Lim told us, but it was more like a tap.

I have to assume that Fang's kitchen crew was being careful to do its best work that day. And that someone was making sure all of the meals came out on time.

Tyrone, the vegan in the group, ordered what turned out to be the best dish: a plate of flash-fried tofu cubes glazed with a supple ginger-tomato sauce. We all loved it. I was pleased enough with my own traditional Indonesian nasi goreng, a shiny mahogany mound of mildly seasoned rice, hunks of chicken, tomato and peas. Loretta's laksa lemak, another signature dish here, evoked the Vietnamese pho, only this noodle bowl featured a delicate curry fragrant with lime and lemongrass and laden with vegetables and pieces of chicken breast.

Justin, however, seemed underwhelmed. He'd ordered a plate of tender beef slices in what was supposed to be a snazzy pepper sauce. "It's not peppery enough," he said. Not enough of a kick, I guess.

Best of all, though, were the over-the-top desserts: a quivering, warm coconut flan and a towering parfait made with two superb house-made ice creams — a tarty pineapple with lots of chopped fruit and a neon-green Key lime topped with a cloud of whipped cream.

If I keep coming back for that sort of stuff, it'll look like I'm disguised in a fat suit.